


Good Evening, Mr. Potter

by FangQueen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Disparity (44/18), Being talked off, Chronic Masturbation, Exhibitionism, M/M, Masturbation, Mentions of younger Albus, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Teacher/Student, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 11:14:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10216745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FangQueen/pseuds/FangQueen
Summary: There had been a lot of things Albus’ father had warned him about attending Hogwarts. What they hadn’t ever talked about was just how bloody impossible it was, sometimes, to get in a decent wank around here!





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [birdsofshore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdsofshore/gifts).



> Written for birdsofshore’s [Anywhere but the Bed](http://birdsofshore.livejournal.com/152481.html) comment fest, based on the following prompt by the host themself!:
> 
>  **Pairing:** Draco / Albus Severus  
>  **Prompt:** Albus is 17/18 and horny all of the time, but he can never get enough privacy to wank in peace. He's taken to waiting till night time and then sneaking down to the common room to get some quality alone time. Unfortunately for him, Professor Malfoy, his Head of House, doesn't take kindly to students being found out of bed after lights out…

There had been a lot of things Albus’ father had warned him about attending Hogwarts. The stigmas that came with being sorted into Slytherin. Which teachers to avoid getting on their bad side, and which ones he could get away with slacking off a bit more. If he was told a specific area was off-limits, to never go there, unless one of his friends was in Mortal Peril. What they hadn’t ever talked about--and, really, it wasn’t like Al was complaining, because that probably would’ve been a very weird and uncomfortable conversation to have with his own dad--was just how bloody impossible it was, sometimes, to get in a decent wank around here!

In this truly massive castle, one would think it would be easy enough to find a secluded space to do one’s dirty business, but no, not in his experience. The place was teeming with students and teachers and ghosts and who knew what else, and Albus Potter had been having a real time of it, since awakening to the call of his own body, finding a dark corner to love on himself in. Not that that had stopped him from doing it as much as humanly possible, of course; he was a growing boy, after all. Wasn’t _entirely_ his fault that he had certain...proclivities. Blame biology.

Today, however, had been trying indeed. His “morning routine” had been interrupted by Scorpius frantically barging into his bed curtains to ask what he’d written for number four on their History of Magic homework. When he’d attempted to finish up in the shower shortly afterwards, Zabini and Nott had come in talking about one of theirs most recent break-up and thrown him off his game. It happened to be the one day out of the week that he didn’t have a free period before Potions, and Professor Malfoy had been looking especially edible that afternoon, which of course didn’t help at all, and _everywhere_ , including the pitch--which hadn’t even been booked for a practise today--had been crowded as hell, because it was _spring_ now, and apparently that meant that everybody had to occupy every nook and cranny he’d ever cataloged for his private activities simultaneously! But not to worry: he’d devised a Plan B some time ago, for just such terribly dry days.

So it was that Albus came to be slumped in one of the black, leather loveseats that adorned the Slytherin common room, his soft, rhythmic grunts of “Uh, uh, uh,” rising in intensity as he stroked himself inside his pajama bottoms. His free hand held a pillow upright between his spread legs, concealing his lap and the filthy goings-on thereof. Earlier, he’d had the fleeting thought to bring a book with him, as an easy excuse-- _oh look, he fell asleep while reading that chapter for DADA, how touching, what a good student, what an upstanding young man,_ certainly _not one who’d be beating off to thoughts of his classmates in the middle of the common room_ \--but the near constant needful throb of his cock had completely wiped his mind clean of the idea.

He was already getting close. That spread on the Magpies’ new beater in the Quidditch Monthly he’d received at breakfast was doing a bang up job of helping him along. Had _all that_ merely been the cup he was surely wearing under his gear, or something more? Al chose to presume the latter as he licked his lips and imagined himself on his knees. He’d have a bloke like that any way he asked for, just name the time and the place--but right now, he was practically bursting at the thought of taking that probably enormous thing in his mouth. This was going to be messy, and he could only pray that he wouldn’t end up waking up any of his innocently slumbering housemates. He’d had to go the whole day without, when he’d normally be at at least three rounds by now, at the rate he’d been going the past couple months. Could he get it up for another one before knocking off for the night? What was he thinking, he could get it up for a bloody _tea cozy_ these days, honestly, so it couldn’t be _that_ difficult--

“Well, _good evening_ , Mr. Potter.”

Albus squeezed his prick so hard he thought for a moment he might’ve popped it, and he desperately sucked the startled yelp he’d let out back down his throat. His eyes snapped open then, to take in the sight he’d already guessed at, considering the familiarity of that voice...

Professor Malfoy stood on the other side of the coffee table separating them, leaning nonchalantly against an arm of the opposite couch. Before Albus could attempt to try to get himself out of hot water with this one, he was struck by two things: 1) what was his Head of House even doing here right now, and 2) why the fuck had he felt the need to wear that form-fitting jumper and trouser set, like some perfect model wank fantasy. The poor boy’s bollocks could only get so tight. But as for the former, as if reading his mind, the elder man was then offering as an explanation:

“I often stop by before I head to bed myself, to make sure there’s no students breaking curfew. Funny, though: I never imagined I’d find one in _your_ current position. Perhaps that was foolish of me; you are all _adolescents_ , after all.”

This had to be a waking dream. He hadn’t even heard him come in! He must be so delirious with arousal that his mind was now conjuring figments of his teachers in drool-worthy outfits in the hopes that it would give him the massive orgasm he’d been wishing for. Good on his brain to think up something like this, though; he’d forgotten the man _owned_ muggle clothes, he’d spent so many years now seeing him in his potioneer’s robes a majority of the time, but god _damn_ , did he make them look good.

But then he saw that trademark smirk spread across the man’s lips, and he knew it was real. His imagination was pretty fucking good, but not _that_ good. That was pure Draco Malfoy right there, and that sort of thing couldn’t be faked, not even by the wildest of fantasies. Realizing that, however, sent a sudden thrill of shame and fear through his chest, and he scrambled to right himself as he struggled to make up an excuse, but he couldn’t manage to get anything out before that sultry tone was stopping him again:

“Show me.”

“W-what?” he spluttered, having finally regained the use of his voice.

The professor scoffed and gestured to the pillow still clutched in his trembling hand, then repeated pointedly, “Show. Me.”

Albus’ heart broke a world record pace in that moment. He couldn’t mean…? He glanced at his lap, then back up at that unwavering smirk. The blonde nodded, to confirm that yes, he _was_ being serious. Al felt his stomach drop. What was this about? The professor had a cock of his own, didn’t he? Surely he didn’t need to actually _see anything_ to have a fairly decent grasp on what was going on? Furthermore, the young Slytherin wondered what was going to happen to him, now that he’d been caught. He’d expected a lot of shouting and the cold, hard slap of detention the second Professor Malfoy had made his presence known, but here they were, apparently playing a game of “show-me-yours-and-I’ll-show-you--”...Well, he certainly didn’t think there was going to be a “mine” coming from the man across from him, but essentially that. Plus, he was eighteen now, no longer a minor. Maybe detention wasn’t even a viable option anymore. Was Malfoy going to write him up for indecent exposure, or something like that?

“I’m waiting, Mr. Potter.” And he was just short of tapping his foot about it, too, and thus Albus finally set his protective covering aside, even as he whimpered pitifully to himself. When Professor Malfoy waved in his hand in way that suggested he continue, his student hesitated, but eventually hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his pajama bottoms and slowly inched them down his thighs.

Holy shit, Albus really wished his teacher wouldn’t have done that: to allow his tongue to dart out and swipe across his lips so sensually. Seemingly involuntarily as well, if the way he raised a hand to his mouth so quickly afterwards was any clue, but it was enough to make his cock twitch in renewed interested. Despite the embarrassment of the situation, it was still impossibly hard and sporting an angry scarlet flush, because Salazar help him, he was horny, and Professor Malfoy really needed to _stop looking at him like that_.

“My, my. Quite _enthusiastic_ tonight, aren’t we?”

That comment shot straight to his groin. It was laden with such blatant amusement, and just a touch of desire, that he assumed initially that he must be hearing things. The way the older man continued to stare him down made him fidget and place a hand back on his erection, as if to hide it from any further scrutiny. He tore his gaze away from those prying eyes and instead tried to focus on something, _anything_ else. Of course, he should’ve known what a truly terrible idea that would be. All it did was lead him into observing Professor Malfoy’s choice of clothing once more, and with his hand already there, well, it seemed he couldn’t help a small tug at the sight. He blushed like a virgin when he caught his teacher glancing down at the movement, but...

“Go on, then. Don’t stop on my account.”

Had he gone mad? Why would Professor Malfoy be interested in watching him jerk off? The very idea made him wary, but...he really, _really_ needed to come. And even in his most absurd and outlandish fantasies, he’d never expected his best friend’s father to ever look at him like he was right this second. He blamed that and that alone for why his hand started moving again, tentatively at first, then gradually building back to the vigor with which he’d been doing it before he’d been interrupted as his teacher’s lingering gaze spurred him on. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d done this sort of thing, just...not with a professor...

“What _were_ you thinking about, I wonder? Before I walked in,” his counterpart was droning on casually, teasingly. Albus didn’t bother trying to decipher why that tone made his balls draw up tight against him; it was simply too intoxicatingly hot to care. But then Professor Malfoy said something that made his strokes falter for a moment: “Or _who_ , I suppose is the real question.”

Even as he continued, Albus looked to him with pleading eyes, because he could see from a mile off where he was going with this, and no, he was getting the wrong idea!

“My son, perhaps?”

No! No, it wasn’t like that! Sure, he and Scorpius just-so-happened to share the same… _tendencies_ , sexually speaking, but they hadn’t ever...They were best mates! And as great a guy as the blonde was, and all that, Al just couldn’t bring himself to see him that way. It would be weird--and, moreover, he _so_ didn’t need any opportunities for someone that was essentially his brother-from-another-mother to find out what a deviant he really was, that he was the type who needed to get off three or four times a day, that he would do it into a pillow in their own sodding common room--

“No, Professor, I swear, I--”

“Although, I think he’s just started seeing someone recently, if I’m not mistaken, and I’m fairly sure that someone _isn’t_ you.”

And...yeah, alright, that had a bit to do with it as well, he couldn’t lie about that, but really. Scorpius wasn’t _entirely_ his type. Not like he wasn’t ever willing to try out something different every now and then--he’d get it wherever he could, if he was being honest--but...Quidditch. He wasn’t at all interested in the actual sport of it, like his brother, just more so in those who actually partook of said sport. But could anyone blame him, really?! It was chock-full of all sorts of fit blokes, and posters and magazine photoshoots of them were quite easy to come by. Like that of the old seeker standing before him...Nearly every student he knew had at least one memento of one of their favorite players--and Draco Malfoy had been one of the greats, before he’d retired to become their Potions teacher. Just...he imagined not every one of them had to actually hide said material under their mattress, for fear that someone would recognize the sticky bits they hadn’t been able to spell off...He didn’t want to ever have to come out with it to any of his roommates. Especially not his best friend! To have to say: _Hey, sorry, it’s just I think your dad is super hot, and I’d love to take him on in the storeroom some day, if he’ll give me the chance_. And he was even hotter now that he was divorced and out. All Al could hope for at this point was that Professor Malfoy hadn’t noticed how he’d started to look at him over the past couple years, but something about the way his eyes were sparkling now as he stalked towards him--like rain clouds bursting with streaks of lightning--told him he might have…

Suddenly, he had Professor Malfoy standing between his open legs, leaning over and bracing himself on the back of the couch behind Albus’ head. He didn’t think he’d ever seen the man look at him so seriously before. Having been attached at the hip with his son for so many years, he’d seen a different side to him than most other students got to, and he’d never been anything less than kind and welcoming to Albus, despite the history between him and the boy’s own parents.

“Not that it matters much now. I’m fairly certain that since I came in...all you’ve been able to think about is _me_.”

He groaned and thrust against his palm, because god, yes, it was true, it was so true. Honestly, Professor Malfoy had been all he’d been able to think about for awhile--though he tried to stop himself as often as he could. A couple summers ago, he and a few other boys in their circle had spent a week at the Manor, as they’d been wont to do for some time. Albus had gone into it expecting nothing more than the usual: great food, even better company, and lazing about avoiding their holiday assignments as much as possible. He’d come away from that trip with a lot more than that...The elder Malfoy probably hadn’t counted on anyone catching him in the act; he would’ve assumed that a bunch of teenage boys could really give a shit what the resident adult was doing and would be able to entertain themselves, and rightly so. But with the closest bathroom occupied, Albus had had to go in search of another, and that’s where he’d found them. He’d frozen, staring through the tiny crack in the door for several interminable minutes before he realized what he was looking at: Professor Malfoy moaning, trousers around his ankles, getting bent over the sink. He couldn’t see the other man from that angle, but he didn’t care: he’d only had eyes for that lithe body, those rosy, parted lips, and those platinum strands falling across a pale, sweaty brow. Much as he’d wanted to stay, he’d feared being discovered, and so he’d run to the furthest possible corner he could find and finished himself off in a record twenty seconds. The memory still aided him to this day, and he simply couldn’t get it out of his mind now as he writhed under the continued whispers in his ear.

“It’s true, isn’t it? If I’d known you were such a little pervert…”

A fresh rush of arousal flooded his system, and Albus shut his eyes tight and bit down hard on his lower lip to stop the loud moan that threatened to escape. His hand on his cock slowed, beginning to rethink what he was doing here. He couldn’t allow himself to fall apart like that, not in front of a teacher! Not in front of a man who basically watched him grow up! But then Professor Malfoy was gripping his jaw in one hand, making him open his eyes again, and forcing another choked noise from him.

“I don’t believe I told you to stop.” He rubbed his thumb across Al’s abused lip and appeared to fight a moan of his own when the boy eagerly slackened his jaw to suck the tip inside. “This is what you came here for, correct? So go ahead. Get what you need.”

Oh god, and did he _need_. Precome helped slick the way as his hand flew over his shaft. He trailed his free one down to squeeze his aching balls and made an incredibly shameful sound when Professor Malfoy’s eyes, once again, followed the movement.

“I bet you were already close when I came in, weren’t you, Albus?”

The use of his given name made him buck, beyond desperate now for the coil of release steadily building in his gut. This had to be a dream, he thought for the second time; there was no way Professor Malfoy could be here right now, saying what he was, and in _that voice_ , the one that made Albus feel like the whole world was spinning around him.

“Sneaking into the common room, of all places, for a wank. Honestly, what would your classmates think of you?”

They probably already knew. He really would’ve been shocked if his recurring activities weren’t common knowledge, at least among those in his year. It would be kind of hard to miss how often he went to the loo...

“To know that you have so little control over your desires that you have to rub one out on the couch thinking about one of your own teachers?”

Fucking hell, that was it, this was too much; he was going to come all over himself, and it was going to be obscene and humiliating, and it was going to feel _so fucking good_. But what was wrong with him, really, to think of getting off in front of his own teacher?! He tried to stop it, to grip the base of his cock and stave off the impending wave, but he couldn’t, not when those silver eyes were regarding him with such lust and fascination.

“Thinking about _me_. Well, here I am, now. You want to ride me like your favorite broomstick, don’t you? Show me just how much you want it.”

“Pr-Professor, I--” But he wasn’t able to articulate his warning before he was already spiralling out of control, his hips lifting clear off the cushion beneath him as he rocked into his furiously pumping hand. He convulsed with every delicious spurt of his pulsing cock, all initial attempts at coherency descending into a frenzy of slurred, barely-intelligible swears and praises for his teacher’s superb linguistic skills. It wasn’t until he’d had a moment to breathe and the professor had straightened up that he realized he hadn’t just mussed himself, but his counterpart in the process...

“Hm,” Professor Malfoy hummed amusedly to himself as he scrubbed his thumb over a drop of spunk on his jumper, “and I liked this top, too. That’s going to cost you.”

But he didn’t look that upset about it, actually. It could be the post-orgasmic delirium, of course, he could be totally bonkers at this point, but Albus was really pretty sure that that was a rather telling sign his teacher was sporting in his own pants. He wanted to reach out, to ask him if he wanted any help with that, but he didn’t dare move, lest that punishment he’d been fearing earlier was on the way...

“Detention, with me, every Friday evening, until you learn to...control your fantasies.”

Okay, yeah, he’d expected detention from the start, but...That couldn’t have meant what he thought it did, could it? But Professor Malfoy’s eyes were heavy-lidded now, and Albus could see his own breath coming in small huffs. So maybe, just maybe…

“Is that understood?”

“Y...yes, Professor.”

“Good. Now off to bed with you.”

He produced a wand from _Merlin knew where_ in those skintight trousers and lazily flicked it in Albus’ direction. The mess he’d made was cleared, and the young man in question hastily righted his pajamas and jumped up to hurry back to his dorm before the elder could change his mind. Of course, that didn’t necessarily mean he’d gone to sleep once he’d gotten there: no, he was kept up rather late, indeed, biting one corner of his pillow while he thought about what that first detention might bring...

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos/comments = <3!
> 
> Come find me on [Tumblr](https://ohlookagaydraco.tumblr.com/) and [LJ](http://fangqueen.livejournal.com/) as well!


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